Artisan Of War
by magnifyingglass47
Summary: The Institute of War has been destroyed. The Fields of Justice around Valoran were crumbling. A conflict larger than the rune wars was brewing. With another catastrophe in the making, Pantheon struggles with his thirst for battle, wanting to save the world, and two women. (Fiora/Pantheon/Leona [TENTATIVELY])


The League has fallen.

Summoners' corpses littered the once hallowed halls of the Institute of War. The marble pillars, obelisks of magical energies that glowed with blue arcane power were splattered with crimson. Moans of the barely dead echoed down the long corridors. Ancient artifacts that were hung on walls fell in disarray. Scrolls containg decades of knowledge on mystic energies and ways to manipulate them were burning to ash. And yet a gleeful laugh drowns all the death throes of all the mages lying dead or dying. A distinctly feminine chuckle that mocked the desperate cries of the defeated summoners.

The woman stood in the corner of the central chamber, enshrouded in shadow. Before her, lying bloodied on the crystal floor was the famed Council of Equity. Formed by the three strongest summoners in the League of Justice, they wielded incredible magical power and political clout. Inspite of having such influence and strength, the Council was blind to the ambush that had befallen them.

"You won't get away with this!"

It was High Councilor Relivash. The chuckle became a mad cackle.

"I already have."

A pop later and the figure disappeared.

-Page Break-

All around Valoran, various Fields of Justice were collapsing. The Primordial Nexus that sustained the topography and various magical enchantment and wards required to sustain the Fields of Justice had been destroyed. The glowing gems of Guardian Towers, capable of unleashing massive amounts of arcane energy , dimmed. Various nexii ceased rotating and the mystic energies that held them aloft faltered. The giant crystal foci fell and shattered as the nexii impacted their pedestals. Fissures cracked the signature three lanes. Trees were uprooted due to the outflux of magical energies. The runes that enhanced Golem Masters and Lizard Lords crackled with uncontrollable magics and brought the creatures to a frenzy, attacking monster, yordle and champion alike. The Dragons were set free from their arcane bonds and wreaked havoc. Baron Nashor, the culmination of mytic energy channeled from the Primordial Nexus itself, withered and died.

Among this chaos, running with spear and shield in hand was Pantheon. Jumping to avoid the random rock fissure or kicking aside the occasional hysterical yordle, the Rokkar warrior knew he had to get out of the crumbling arena. It was some time ago, before the destruction began around him, that he felt the connection between him and the summoner that called him be severed. Immediately, the battlehardened Rokkarian knew something was wrong. Sighting the tall conjured mountains that ensconed the edges of the arena, he squatted down and readied himself for a leap. Gathering his strength, he crouched lower.

_1...2..._ With a sudden flex of his legs the ground shook with tremendous force. Pantheon rocketed up to the sky leaving a spider-cracked crater in his wake. The speed at which the Artisan of War ascended was so fast that he left air contrails in his wake. A loud _BOOM_ signaled that the champion broke the sound barrier. Reaching the zenith of his jump, way past the peak of the tallest mountain barrier, he positioned himself for landing. Stretching his arms like wing behind him and extending a leg straight while bending the other, he seemed to be executing a kick in mid-air. Faster and faster he fell and once his body slammed into the ground, a great concussive force of air, a sonic boom, spread around his landing point. With an explosion, a crater not unlike the one he left at the chaotic field of justice was formed under his feet. Smoke wafted from Pantheons body as tiny rocks and pebbles displaced from his mighty landing rained down on him.

He raised his head, two sharp glints of red scanned his surroundings. Behind him past the wreckage of a Field of Justice was the Shurima Dessert. In front of him, to the north, was the Great Barrier. A mountain range that effectively halved Valoran. Among those jagged peaks, housing both Pantheon's clan and the Solari temple, was Mt. Targon the tallest mountain in the Great Barrier. Past the wall of mountains, through Mogron Pass, was the Institute of War, found strategically between the warring states of Demacia and Noxus.

'I think it would be prudent to consult with Jagen.' A conflict was brewing and Pantheon knew that the Rakkor would want to be in the thick of it.

With his course set, the cape of Bellophorn swaying in the wind, his relic-weapons clasped tightly in his hands, Pantheon, the Artisan of War began his journey back home.

Meanwhile, miles in front of him, donning a black formal dueling suit and a thrice cut white cape on her right shoulder. Fiora Laurent lay unconscious miles away from her designated destination. She was called upon by a summoner to represent Demacia's interest in a skirmish with Noxian forces. She did not remember for what territory and she cared not. What mattered to her was the challenge and the rush of the duel. Due to the attack on the Institute of War, the summoning went awry and she landed near the verdant forest at the foot of Mt. Targon.

She would not wake until the sound of sandaled feet would rouse her from her slumber.


End file.
